Sew. I got myself sick. It figured that my immune system would be below the optimal threshold, what with everything else going on. So now, I'm nursing a low grade fever (FEVER! in the morning... da dee dum-dum, dum-dum), sore throat, etc. Peachy. The hits just keep coming.
I'm thinking this is a blessing in disguise, though. I mean, when I show up for a hearing, clearly sick without much of a voice, the judge just thinks (I mean, I hope he/she thinks) oh, look at the dedicated brand new attorney. How cute. I remember when I wasn't jaded. I hope she doesn't infect me. Oh, good girl! She's taking all sanitary precautions. Brownie points. Perhaps I am too optimistic.
Also, I decided this was the perfect excuse to use that giant, unused bathtub with jets in our bathroom. It's MAHHHVELOUS, as a woman I know would say. Her accent is legit too; she hails from where they paahhk chaars in the Hahvahd yaahd. I think that speaking like that requires you to leave your mouth open for far (faah?) too long, potentially exposing yourself to whatever I have.
So on the table for this week: Lots of home visits, lots of cat herding. Vor's company Christmas party is this weekend, and I have this sleek little black dress to wear to it. He has a tux. This will be fun, no? Like reenacting our wedding! Except I was wearing white, not black, it was hot, not cold, and I liked everyone present. Well, except for that random relative that you HAVE to invite because Mom/Dad/Mother in Law/Ms. Manners SAYS you have too, despite the many and sundry insults deliberately offered to you by said relative, but who really counts that?
This really was pointless, wasn't it? I'm sorry you read this. It's just that telling the dog my woes only results in me getting licked, or my blanket stolen, or a burp in the face. However, HE can't leave a comment on my blog to tell me to get over it already.
Order of business for the next two hours: Hot water. Blankets. Work email. Snuggle with Vor. Sleep.